Page 7 of First Comes Love

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??t just anyone.

He cocks an eyebrow at me, that arrogant smile gracing that perfect face of a god yet again.

“I thought you had plans.”

He says it tauntingly, like he’s testing me.

I tilt my head back and stare him dead in the eye. Challenge accepted.

“Something better just came up.”

Game on.

Four

Evan

“Say it.”

Our bodies slam against the door to my place. I’ve got one palm on the mahogany paneling, and the other wrapped up in a fistful of Emilia’s hair. Her eyes are shaded by the thickness of her eyelashes, but they’re not closed in ecstasy.

They’re staring at my lips, so fucking close to hers.

This fucking girl. Just begging to be kissed.

“I’m not fucking saying it.”

“Say it,” I urge. This time with a very convincing thrust of my hips against hers.

I’m hard, thick, and long enough that I already know she’s going to struggle to take it.

But first, I want to hear the words from her sexy little mouth.

“Not on your life,” she growls, meeting my eyes.

Jesus. Her eyes. They’re so fucking blue they almost look Photoshopped. If I saw a picture of this girl in a magazine, I’d blink twice and call bullshit.

I get lost in them for a second anyway, searching for the edge of a colored contact and coming up short. Fuck me. She’s actually for real.

I forget myself. I take her fucking lips.

She tastes like nothing I’ve ever encountered before—and I’ve done a lot of taste testing in my life. It’s not strawberries, or champagne, or any of that bullshit. If anything, she tastes like blue agave.

Like fine tequila, a lick of salt, and a squeeze of lime.

But it’s not just that. My tongue slips between her lips and slides against hers, searching to verify and to figure her out.

To taste more.

It’s fucking unnatural, how good she tastes.

A little tangy. A little bitter. A little sweet.

It’s that taste you get in your mouth when you can feel the wind on your face and adrenaline coursing through your veins. It’s the taste of a moment in time when you know your entire life is about to change—better or worse.

Which is fucking insane, when you think about it. This sexy little piece just followed me out of the elevator and came at me, hungry for man meat.

Everything about Emilia screams I don’t do relationships anyway.


Tags: Alexis Angel Billionaire Romance